2014.03.24 - Batman Doesn't Socialize
The hadn't meant to go all the way to Metropolis! They had just... been talking and scenary kinda got lost and... But they're back now! ...And it's dark... Vorpal had warned them not to be out in Gotham after dark. "James..." Krys, who stands 6'2" with waist length blonde hair and sapphire blue eyes, looks up at her brother. "We should... We should hurry, I think..." Despite her height, she's slim. A dancers body. A small framed next to her brother. Neither of them seem to notice the group of three males in leather jackets getting off the rail car with them. It's not an overly unusal sight in Gotham after all. Too bad that, without their memories, they don't know when they're being stalked. A full four inches taller than Krys, with his brownish gold hair falling partially into his eyes, James looks up to the dark sky as opposed to the people aorund them. As if there were any dangers from the sky in Gotham! He reaches a hand out for Krys' as he steps from the 'safety' of the rail car. "Got dark so fast," he murmurs softly, gentle tenor voice not carrying far. "Yeah. Hurry. Good idea. Cat said so?" With that air of your typical easy-pickings spooked Gotham citizen... High above, the Batman is aware enough for the both of them. To the average Gothamite this corner is like any other. To him, however, it has a character all of its own and he knows it well. He knows it like he knows every bend, curve and twist of Gotham's topography. He doesn't know the faces but he will know them soon enough. The spot is popular amongst the hard-headed crew of Myron Bulgakov. Catching straggling tourists fresh off the train on their way into town and shaking them down for whatever they've got on them. Small time. But nothing it beneath his notice. With a flap of his cape he is no longer perched upon the gargoyle high above. In the shadows he moves, dropping to a vantage point closer to the ground. He waits in the shadows the station's lights don't quite reach. He knows they're up to no good but first they need a chance to prove their guilt. And he an opportune moment to strike. Stephanie Brown lives near here, just a few blocks away, and so it's not much surprise that the teenager is nearby. She's got a jug of milk in one hand, a plastic sack with a loaf of bread, a dozen eggs, and a jar of peanut butter in the other as she turns onto the street that the brother and sister are walking down -- not all that far behind their pursuers. Generally she'd avoid the street, but she'd like to get home quickly. She has a report due in the morning, and then she should do some patrolling. She's been firmly in favor of nightly activity since Red Robin offered her his support. It does not take her long to see that the siblings are in some danger, and she utters a very faint sigh as she recognizes that her groceries probably aren't going to make it home intact. Quietly she removes the bread from the sack and sets it down with the milk, then extracts the eggs and palms three of them before setting the rest down with the bread. She idly swings the peanut butter in the sack, letting it build up momentum, as she quietly closes the distance between herself and the men in leather jackets. Tim had just finished up teaching an evening class at a nearby Wayne Foundation youth center. The Young Knights program was a special project of Tim's, looking for kids with computer aptitude and mathematical ability, trying to steer young people into the sciences and letting them see opportunities they might not know exist. Plus, it lets him hang out with a bunch of teenaged computer geeks for an hour and a half three nights a week. He's had worse ideas. He caught sight of the gang about four blocks back, though, obviously on the hunt. Well, perhaps not obvious to most people, but Tim can read them. Body language: predatory. Swagger: looking for a fight. Judging by their eyes and the unmeasured volume of their laughter, probably intoxicated to one degree or another. Of course, Tim's still in the process of redesigning his costume, making the transition from Red Robin to Cardinal. But a motorcycle helmet is quite a good disguise in and of itself, and he just so happens to have an expandable bo staff in his pocket. Still, he's a block and a half back yet as they start closing in on their prey. He taps the earbud built into his helmet, using a very scrambled, very private and, of course, conveniently universal (thanks, WayneTech) signal. "Got a small wolfpack in my area. Am I the only sheepdog?" he asks in a low voice into his subsonic mic. Yep. Still oblivious. Her hand tightens on James' and Krys nods her head. "Yeah. We're supposed to stay o well lit areas or call a cab but...." She bites down on her bottom lip. "I don't even know what a cab is..." The bikers behind the pair pick up their pace, closing in quickly on the siblings. Batman? Who ever sees Batman before he's ready for them too!? Steph is discarded as just another teen on the streets... Possibly the next mark after they get done with the blondes. And Tim's too far away yet to worry about... Much... From his perch, Batman's eyes narrow and the sophisticated lenses of his cowl zoom in on Stephanie's face. Arthur Brown's daughter. The one wearing aubergine and calling herself Spoiler. The fact that Tim is nearby does raise his eyebrow, though. The voice piped directly into his ear gives him pause but he does not take his eyes off the brewing situation below. "No," comes the rasping, stony bass voice of Batman, "One rogue element. Brown." Said 'rogue element' is beamed from his own HUD to Tim's. A surveillance photo along with some vital statistics, including her relationship to the Cluemaster. Not that he expects Stephanie to do anything more than try to help the hapless couple, but she's untrained. She could be a liability. Hence, rogue element. His hands clench into fists, knuckles cracking and falling into line with a pop. Hand in hand, James leads away from the station, followed by those bikers. But, since this is Gotham, well-lit doesn't always connect fluidly one place to another. There's at swath, directly under the Batman, in the direction of Stephanie (it's like James is just setting EVERYONE up here!), of broken street lights. James swallows once, then presses forward. The sound of Red Robin's voice in her ear is unexpected -- she's been wearing the communicator he gave her, of course, but this is the first time she's heard anything from one of her fellow vigilantes. Stephanie hesitates a moment before muttering, "I'm not a rogue, thank you very much." Yes, she's untrained, but she's had remarkably good luck with thugs and toughs so far. It helps that they almost universally think exactly that: she's just a teenaged girl. But is she a liability? Possibly. She's smart enough, though, to wait for these guys to make their move on the siblings. The peanut butter is swinging in wide arcs now, and she's rolling the eggs in her other hand. And as they approach the darkened corridor of street, she lets loose with one of the eggs, sending it in an arc toward the middle of the three bikers. Because, if nothing else, it will distract these guys from the others and give them time to get away. Besides, she knows already that Batman and Red Robin are nearby. She probably can't get beaten TOO badly before they take down the thugs. Tim sighs softly to himself, although he knows well enough to tap his mic onto mute when he does so. He loves Bruce, he really does. But getting Bruce to soften on a new person was like trying to soften steel. It required either a lot of effort or a change in the laws of physics. Neither of which could be accomplished in the next month, much less the next two minutes. He flicks his mic back on, "Spoiler's my responsibility. Your call, though. You want us to hang back? A three-pronged attack could eliminate them at once, with less danger to civilians." he says. He's obviously suggesting the latter, if only to minimize the chance of a rogue punk trying to grab a hostage while Batman's mashing his two companions. Tim hates mess. Still, he respects the chain of command and Batman's Batman. If he wants him and Stephanie to stay back, they'll stay back. He picks up his pace a little bit anyway. Hey, he hasn't had a workout in a while, sue him. The gangers step up to surround the blonde duo. The large one in the lead, with a big ol' rooster on his jacket nods to his men. They step up, not exactly in unison, and grab at Krys. Knifes and chains are produced from somewhere. Some brass knuckles too, and they move to haul her away from James. Who turns around, eyes wide with surprise and anxiety, only to have Rooster smile into his face in a highly threatening manner. "Here's how this goes, pretty boy..." Rooster starts, cracking his knuckles. The grim line of Batman's mouth becomes a frown as he hears Stephanie speak through the communicator. Unexpected. Still, it may be a benefit to have her on their wavelength and he can always scramble that little earpiece afterwards. "Hnh. No. We're all in," Batman replies, still frowning before he echoes, "She's your responsibility." As the gangers close in around the pair, the Dark Knight reasons that they can wait no more. Tim's distance is something he trusts his former ward to close quickly enough. Stephanie is close enough. Time to move. He drops, cape swirling about himself to momentarily eclipse the street lamp and cast a shadow over the scene playing out below. When the light suddenly returns, Batman looms between James and Rooster with his back to the former. He offers no words or witty quip. Instead, both hands dart out viper-swift to clasp the leader's right and elbow. One hand forces the elbow up while the other jams the wrist down. There is an audible crack as bone bends in a way it shouldn't, shatters and breaks the flesh. A brutal injury, yes, but nothing that won't heal in time. Stephanie's eyes widen as she sees Batman dropping from the sky to take on the leader of this trio of thugs, but she's not about to fail in her own attack now. She rushes forward, swings her sack backwards, allowing the momentum to carry the jar around in an arc that smashes it down on the head of the man to Rooster's right. And, just in case this doesn't stun him enough, she continues forward, extending her leg between his and shoving him high on his back with both hands. Yeah, take that, thug! Tim Drake anticipates the behavior of the three quite well, as usual. Batman, of course, takes the leader, as he always does, the resounding crack only making TIm wince a little. Bruce does love to make an example. Stephanie's technique is a bit sloppy, but doubtlessly effective, although he doesn't think he's likely to begin adding jars to his arsenal anytime soon. And, so, the benefits of hanging back come perfectly clear as, faced with a choice between a crazed teenager armed with groceries, the friggin' Batman and the way he came, he choose the way he came. Of course, Batman is quite terrifying, so he makes sure to look over his shoulder to make sure he's not being pursued. When he turns back... Well, when he turns back is when he takes a straight leg kick to the face, jacking his jaw and knocking him on his back at the feet of the young man in the biker helmet. "You should probably just wait for the cops, don't you think?" Tim asks in a polite, even voice. Or, it would be if it weren't for the voice modulator he turned on making him sound like HAL's pubescent, creepy cousin. Krys froze the moment she was grabbed. It was almost as if her brain had shut down. As the action begins to happen around her eyes widen. Once she's gotten loose, she immediately rushes over to her brother's side. She reaches out for his arm, trying to shield and hide behind him both. Her chest heaves, body trembling yet tense. It's familiar... The battle going on. The desire to step in, to help, is almost overwhelming and yet... She stays where she is. She'd end up getting herself killed if she got into the middle of it. James didn't even get a chance to blink! Darkness decended then the Dark Knight decended and there was that sick crunch of bone... Right arm, brutually broken. James spasms, his right hand jerking with phantom pain, and he blanches from it. Stomach turning, he doesn't even have the presence of mind to react fast enough to try to rescue Krys. The young girl and man have done it for him. He's only a little bitter about this. In that manner that all big brothers are bitter when their glory is taken from them. But it's flitting, this feeling, for James dashes forward toward Krys, skirting around Rooster. That ganger has fallen to his knees, screaming in pain and clutching his arm to himself. WIth Krys rushing to him and him rushing to her, the siblings meet somewhere in the middle, a few steps from Batman and his fallen foe. James is quick to wrap his left arm about Krys, tucking her to his side, trying to shield her and hide her both. His blue eyes are wide at teh scene before him, the effeciency of the warriors he sees. It's so familiar. He should praise them, and yet, his chest feels tight and his arm is aching with this dull throb. He too wants to help. He too finds his mind flailing in thoughtlessness of what he could possibly do. Batman does not let Rooster scream for long, grabbing his head with both his hands and yanking it roughly toward an upraised knee. It finds Rooster's jaw and renders the man unconscious, the Dark Knight immediately stepping away towards the man Stephanie brained with the jar and then knocked to the ground. He crouches momentarily over the other thug's prostrate form, checking for signs of life. He knows how to harm without killing but does Stephanie? Satisfied that the thug is alive (or, at least, alive enough) he pulls a zip-tie from his belt and pulls both the man's wrists together. He binds them tightly in a practiced motion, not sparing Spoiler a look as he turns his head from the rest of them and presses ... something ... on his wrist. That done, he immediately closes the distance between himself and the two siblings. He gets a good look at them. Committing their faces to memory while the camera in his cowl records their looks. To the casual observer, however, it seems as though he is simply standing there and glaring at them. Well, it was only peanut butter. In a plastic jar, no less. Honestly, Stephanie didn't even think it'd knock him out -- she figured he'd have to be smacked a few more times to keep him down. But she seems to have done the job, and Batman is not yelling at her, and she only lost a couple of eggs in the scuffle (and she is trying to surreptitiously wipe yolk off her hand and onto her jeans). So she'll consider this a win. Her eyes go toward the blonde pair. "Are you two alright?" she asks, brows furrowing in concern. Tim has his own guy nicely trussed and lassoed, rodeo style, ankles and wrists bound and rolled over onto his belly. Tim pats him lightly on the head, almost comforting as he goes to make sure the civilians in questions are all right. And that Batman isn't being too much of a jerk to Stephanie. Not that he can do much about it, mind you, but he at least likes to know the shapes of the wounds before he tries to apply first aid. Bruce's scrutiny of the pair makes Tim hesitate for a moment. Are they someone he should know? Something's got the Batman's radar pinging, at any rate. He nudges Stephanie on the elbow and flicks his helmeted head to the side, indicating they should go. The less time she spends around Bruce until he's got her better trained, the better for all involved. As Batman leans in, Krys leans closer to James. "C-can we go now?" Her body trembles as she clings to her brother. "Please?" Because, despite them fighting off the thugs... She isn't sure she and her brother are out of trouble yet. Did they just go from the frying pan into the fire? James watches Batman move into his personal space, eyes growing concerned by the invasion. He shifts so his completely in front of Krys. Shoulders squaring as he moves. The young man would be quite intimidating were his chest and arms a little broader, if he had more stubble on his jaw, more lightning and fire in his eyes. Really, out of it all, it's the eyes that weaken the impression. His eyes are a soft blue with hints of grey. And almost fully guileless. He's not afraid of Batman because it's Batman. It's obvious that this man is staring at Batman like he's never seen him before, ever. Nor like he's ever heard of a man in a bat suit and then... There's a flicker of something. And James relaxes a degree, a hesitant smile starting to form. "You're in spandex, right? So... this means it's safe to move around? The purple cat said to stay to lit areas unless someone in spandex was around. I'm not really sure what spandex is but... I think you protected us?" James' light tenor voice is not even remotely booming or strong. It's uncertain and youthful and shaking faintly. Adrenaline. Perhaps that start of shock. He shuffles backwards, trying to get some space between him and Batman. "Yes. We can go now? Right?" Batman continues to stare at the pair for an uncomfortably long moment. The feed in his cowl takes it all in, scrambling and codifying it before bouncing it off a WayneTech satellite and back to the Batcomputer. He does not so much flinch as a sleek, black car rounds the corner and begins to roll up to him - engine purring. He simply stares at James as he speaks, eyes narrowed behind his cowl. "Hnh." The car stops on a time nearby, the door hissing open to reveal a driver's compartment that doesn't appear to have anybody in it. He steps in, the door hissing shut and sealing him inside. He trusts them all to find their own way and he has places to be. The Batmobile roars to life, wheels squealing on the pavement momentarily before it speeds off into the night - rounding the corner with Formula One precision. "Alfred," the Dark Knight speaks at last, bringing up a feed of the Butler in the Batcave on the car's display, "Upload CowlFeed oh-three-two-three-two-oh-one-four from twenty-three thirty-eight until twenty-three forty-five for review. And run a full search on the man and woman. Facial recognition isn't turning anything up. They might be out-of-towners." "Of course, sir," comes Alfred's dignified, unflappable reply. Purple cat, Batman thinks to himself, turning another corner. He'll have to pay Vorpal a visit. Stephanie glances at the young man in the helmet and jacket. Clearly Red Robin, and she'd agree with him... except Batman is leaving. To James and Krys she says, "We'll see you home, folks. That was Batman -- he's... he doesn't socialize. Don't worry -- I think you're safe for now." Tim Drake isn't going to subject the two civilians to his voice modulator. He really does need to rework that thing. He's starting to sound cartoonish. He nods in agreement with Stephanie, though, and serves as her silent, but de...no, no, different adjectives. Silent but stoic. Yes. Better. By the way, bye, Batman. You're welcome. Say hi to Alfred for me. See you at home. Don't eat the mu shu I have in the fridge. I put my name on it. Category:Log